Chapters (73)
- Cover
- Dedication
- Prologue
- Part IAnnie
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Part IIHarry
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Part IIIAnnie
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Part IVHarry
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Forty-Three
- Forty-Four
- Forty-Five
- Forty-Six
- Forty-Seven
- Forty-Eight
- Part VAnnie
- Forty-Nine
- Fifty
- Fifty-One
- Fifty-Two
- Fifty-Three
- Fifty-Four
- Fifty-Five
- Fifty-Six
- Fifty-Seven
- Fifty-Eight
- Fifty-Nine
- Sixty
- Sixty-One
- Acknowledgments
- About the Author
- Also by Linwood Barclay
- About the Publisher
Nabler took a breath, then said, “My trains make the difference. An innocent, beloved toy, rich with history. Who doesn’t love toy trains? When they leave my shop, when they insinuate themselves into a household, that’s when they do what they’re designed for. A kind of Trojan horse, you see. And what they are capable of, it’s nothing short of amazing. But kids don’t love trains now the way they used to. Oh, they’re too sophisticated for them. No more trains or Silly Putty or cap guns. It’s all computer games and social media, although I dare say, that last one might end up doing the kind of damage I could only dream of. But here’s the thing. Even if parents aren’t buying trains for their kids anymore, you know what they are buying? If they’re good parents and they care about their youngsters’ intellectual development?”
Annie felt a sense of dread washing over her.
“Ah, I can tell by your face you know what’s coming. It’s books.”
Annie felt a chill.
“You know I mentioned how the Internet has changed things? Sitting here, taking orders for what train sets I still have, delivering mayhem to unsuspecting families from here to Timbuktu, I also spend a lot of time reading the news. Online, of course. Once I found a way to tap into a nearby power source—everything in town here is dead—I arranged an Internet connection and I’ve kept up on what’s happening, and while doing that I’ve always been on the lookout for someone who could take over.”
He smiled. “And I saw a story about you.” He paused. “And Evan Corcoran.”
“No,” Annie whispered.
“His parents bought that book you wrote about Pierce the Penguin? The one where he decides that nothing is going to hold him back, that he might only be a penguin, but he was still a bird, and damn it, he was going to fly. And little Evan Corcoran found that book so inspiring that he—”
“Shut up! Just shut up!”
Annie had placed her hands over her ears, but Nabler kept on talking, as if he knew his words would get through no matter how she tried to block them.
“So inspiring that he went out onto the balcony and jumped. When I saw that story, and the ones that followed, I thought to myself, Edwin, your search is over. You’ve found the person you’re looking for. What an accomplishment.”
Nabler smiled, took the engineer’s cap from his head, and bowed. “You killed a child with a seemingly innocent little book. I doff my hat to you.”